The Bra
by invisible-nobody15
Summary: "Dysphoria. Most people in 2018 didn't even know what that was - forget anyone from Valhalla that hadn't died in the past decade. So how did this Irish einherji know?"


**A/N: So I'm not super happy with how this one turned out, but I thought I'd post it anyways and see what you guys think of it. Let me know by leaving a review!**

* * *

The Bra

Google defines fear as, "an emotion unpleasant caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat". That was a pretty accurate description of how Alex felt at that moment.

Mallory Keen was the type of girl who you never wanted to be alone with - especially in a room with the door shut. So when Alex Fierro found herself in that very situation, her guard instantly went up. She eyed every inch of the room, anxiously, with one hand on her garotte. She didn't really feel like missing her entire afternoon because of death by Ms. Keen.

Noticing her tentativeness, Mallory did the logical thing: stared daggers at her, literally. She pointed it right at Alex's

torso. "Listen, Fierro. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't take you to a separate room. I'd do it in front of a crowd."

"Okay." She dragged out, letting go of her garotte, but remaining suspicious. "So why did you call me in here?"

Mallory turned around and walked away, after rolling her eyes, beckoning Alex to follow. Without another option, she followed after her, over to a big, brown dresser. They stood there for a moment, silent and still, before Mallory opened it. What she was digging through it for, Alex didn't really want to know.

"I don't need clothes," Alex told her. "And I don't need to know what you keep in your dresser, so I can just go now, I can still make it to-"

"Shut up and take it, Fierro." Mallory said, turning around and shoving a bra into Alex's hands, "I thought maybe I'd help you out a bit."

Speechless, Alex stared at the undergarment she held. It wasn't anything special - just a regular, padded, gray bra. She tried to remain as reactionless as possible, not understanding the true purpose of the gesture yet. "Why… Why would you give this to me? It's not like I need it."

Mallory frowned, judgmentally, and Alex suddenly feared ridicule. Everyone on Floor 19 had been nothing but supportive so far (save for Halfborn, but Mallory had said he was a "work-in-progress"), but she had too many traumatic memories related to that expression to not have an automatic response to it. She tightened her core and her butt, ready for anything.

"I thought it might help you pass." She said, and added, "More than you already do, that is."

"Help… passing…"

"Yeah, for when you're a girl, which is most of the time." She explained further, "Or at least make you feel more comfortable, you know, in your own body."

Again, Alex was struck speechless. Dysphoria. Most people in 2018 didn't even know what that was - forget anyone from Valhalla that hadn't died in the past decade. So how did this Irish einherji know? Alex groped for words, but couldn't seem to find any of the right ones. Nobody had _ever_ done anything for her like this before. The most she ever got out of people, at best, was respect and cooperation. For someone to support her like this was…

"Why? How?" Out of frustration, the questions started popping out of her mouth. "I still don't understand."

Mallory shrugged. "I'm not an idiot. I might not know a lot about gender things, but that doesn't mean that I can't pick up on it."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

She laughed. "Nah, I'm shitting you. Magnus mentioned something about it at dinner the other night; I can't remember exactly what. It sounded terrible, so I thought I'd do something to assist my floormate. You can just shove socks in it or something, right?"

Without thinking it all the way through, Alex took off her shirt on the spot. Only when it was on the floor did she realize how vulnerable she was. Other than in front of her parents, and in the locker room at her old school, she'd never taken off her shirt in front of anybody. It bothered her; she was sensitive about it, though she was loathe to admit it.

She noticed Mallory trying not to stare, the redhead thankfully having the respect to not say anything about it. No comments. Alex could deal with that. She still hated the vulnerability, but this gift was so large, that she owed Mallory some form of trust. Alex looked at the bra in her hands, wanting nothing more than to put it on. However…

Mallory chuckled. "Do you need help getting it on, Fierro?"

"No."

"Here." Despite her protest, Mallory took the bra out of her hand. "You flip it upside down, put the outside in, and hook it in the front. Then you turn it around, flip it up, and voila!"

Mallory threw her a couple pairs of sock - which Alex clumsily tried to make work - and then put her shirt back on. With a nauseating mix of anxiety and excitement, she walked over to the mirror. When she got there, her stomach grew fuzzy. It was _her_. The her that she only pictured in her head. One of the few things about herself that she has a hard time accepting - suddenly gone from her reflection.

"Thank you…" She whispered, and then spun around and punched Mallory in the shoulder for good measure. She couldn't have the other girl think she'd gone soft, now would she? "But you don't say one word to anybody about what's happened in this room today, or you'll be missing dinner."

"Suits me fine." She said. "Can't have others thinking that I do favors for people, right?"

Alex nodded. "Great. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Mallory raised an eyebrow as Alex hurried toward the exit. "Where're you rushing off to?"

"To murder my boyfriend."


End file.
